


No Grave

by oeuvres (scriobh)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Pre-Relationship, Temporary Character Death, s2e26 SPOILERS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 06:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scriobh/pseuds/oeuvres
Summary: “You gigantic fucking asshole!” Beau shouted, almost reflexively punching his arm but catching herself at the last second. “What were you even thinking running in like that? You dropped before he even touched you, and we had to watch—Fuck, Molly, you’re such a fucking idiot!” Her words were only softened by the fact that she was still crying over him. “We lost Jester, okay? We can’t do reckless shit anymore. She’s not going to pop out of the sky on a giant lollipop to save our asses, so you—you can’t do anything that’s going to take you away.”“We’re all that’s left until we get them back, and we need all of us,” Nott added.“We’re a family, dude.” Beau’s voice broke.





	No Grave

**Author's Note:**

> This is a magical fix-it, so I know that the Periapt of Wound Closure wouldn't actually work at all like it does in here. I just don't want to say goodbye and I'm scared that we'll have to, so I want to hold onto hope for SOME kind of revival, whatever the means. This is a simple one bc I just needed Molly to be alive and having them go somewhere to heal him would have taken longer and I'm impatient and lazy by nature and I need my boy.
> 
> Also I don't think I caught the firbolg woman's name right but it was the best I could remember, so I'll edit that once the proper spelling is out.

“Fuck.”

 

The word fell unprompted from Beau’s lips in a desolate, helpless tone as she dropped to her knees, watching almost lifelessly as the Iron Shepherds continued their slow, confident journey north, taking their friends away and leaving tragedy behind. “ _ Fuck _ .” The more emphatic curse seemed to shake her out of the shocked daze that she had fallen into.

 

Nott looked up at Caleb at her side, the unidentifiable emotions coursing through her at Mollymauk’s demise also darkened by a secret guilt at her private relief that it was he and not Caleb who had fallen. Seeing the pained horror on his face as he stared at their fallen friend only made the guilt worsen, and she reached up to take Caleb’s hand that was still outstretched from the last spell that had fizzled out when he saw what had happened. He dragged his gaze down to her, his eyes almost unseeing but roiling with turmoil. 

 

“Are you all right, Caleb?” Nott asked quietly, pushing down her own feelings for the moment. Molly hadn’t been her favorite by any means and they’d had a somewhat antagonistic relationship for a while, but she had certainly never wanted him dead. Their group was now broken where it had only just been fractured days earlier, and she was startled to feel an acute sense of loss for who she then realized must have been a friend.

 

“All right?” Caleb sounded distant, like he barely understood the words, and his gaze returned to the tiefling lying prone across the way. Without answering, he started for their fallen party member, Nott trailing along with her fingers entwined tightly with his.

 

At the base of the hill beside the grooves dug into the ground from the slavers’ wagons, Caleb fell beside Molly, absently pulling his hand from Nott’s and then quickly rooting through his bag, coming back out with a healing potion.

 

Nott’s heart sank. “Caleb, it’s not going to work,” she tried to say gently. “Look at his eyes. Look at the wound. He’s not breathing, Caleb.”

 

“Beauregard!” He called over to her. Beau lifted her head from her hands, her face wet with tears. “Come—come help. Please.”

 

She got to her feet, passing Keg and stumbling toward her friends. She dropped beside them. “Would a potion even work at this point?” Her voice was gravelly, and her gaze was glued to Molly’s unseeing red eyes.

 

“We have to try, don’t we?” His hands trembled as he unstoppered the vial, and Beau tilted Molly’s head up, resting it on her lap and holding him gently in place as Caleb brought the potion to his lips and carefully tipped its contents into Molly’s mouth, moving fingers along his throat to try to help the liquid go down properly. Beau sniffed, and they waited.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Maybe—What about the moss, the plant with healing properties from that woman?” Caleb spoke, already feeling inside the pocket where he had seen Molly place the gift in his coat.

 

“She said it would just act like a potion, though,” Nott said quietly. “And potions clearly aren’t working. We shouldn’t waste—”

 

“It’s not a waste if it works,” Beau snapped, two tears falling in quick succession onto Molly’s skin as the reality of the situation began to set in. “Do it, Caleb.”

 

He had already been preparing the moss himself, and with the instruction, he pushed some of it into the grisly wound as a poultice before bringing the rest to Molly’s lips. “This will be harder to get down. Can I have your water, Beau?”

 

She handed it over wordlessly before shooting a startled look over her shoulder at the sound of someone approaching, then settling as she realized it was only Keg, about whom they’d all nearly forgotten in the moment.

 

“Do you have any healing?” Beau begged, having to look up at the dwarf from her position that left her subconsciously curled protectively over Molly’s head. “Any spells, or a special magical artifact, or—or—”

 

Keg was shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I’m—I’m  _ sorry _ .”

 

“You didn’t kill him,” Beau said flatly, turning her gaze downward again. “And you almost died to save me, so we’re probably square.”

 

Keg’s continued apologies were drowned by Caleb’s frustrated groan and Zemnian curses as the moss had no effect either. “There has to be  _ something _ . Jester spoke of revival for the dead, we would just need diamonds—”

 

“And  _ Jester _ ,” Nott said, unable to keep the venom from her voice. They’d lost them all. The trail of wagons was still within sight, but they might as well be continents away. They’d  _ lost _ them.

 

“Jester told me that you had to be fast with the spell, though. I think we’re already too late,” Beau mumbled.

 

Caleb shook his head. “No, there is something. There must be. The firbolg woman—”

 

“I don’t think she was a healer beyond what she showed us,” Keg interjected.

 

Caleb breathed harshly, dropping his forehead into a hand. “Then we ride on to find a healer who can save him. Or we return to Zadash. Surely the Gentleman knows someone, or Pumat Sol—” Caleb cut himself off, eyes going wide. “Pumat.” He looked from Nott to Beau.

 

Beau’s eyebrows drew together. “Caleb, I don’t know if he’s the resurrection type.”

 

“No. No, the necklace, the amulet that Mollymauk purchased that he was so happy with. He never used it, did he?”

 

“Not that I saw, and I was right there.” Beau’s face crumbled, and the tears started anew. “I was right fucking there, and he—I let him—”

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Beau,” Nott said softly.

 

“So he never got the chance to activate it?” Caleb said, eyes alight with hope. He reached down past Molly’s wounds and just below his shirt to take the pendant in his grasp.

 

“You think it’ll work this late?”

 

“We must try, ja?”

 

“Yes. What do we have to do?” Nott asked.

 

“It just… needs to be called upon. He… he just didn’t have the time.” Caleb closed his eyes, murmuring some arcane words under his breath and clutching the necklace like a lifeline before setting it back down against Molly’s skin, gently keeping it pressed to his chest.

 

The jewel in the pendant ever so slowly began to glow, and the desperate remnants of the Mighty Nein, Keg at their side, watched unblinking for any change. A moment passed, then a minute.

 

Nothing.

 

Beau let out a scream of rage that sounded like it tore her throat raw, throwing her head back so she could see only the grey sky that was appropriately darkening with each passing moment.

 

Another minute.

 

Keg took a step away from the group and turned instead to stare after the slavers as they still continued on, never changing pace.

 

Nott sat cross-legged on the ground, taking Caleb’s free hand again. There wasn’t much point in saying anything now, whether it worked or not. What could they even do but wait? So she quietly held hope for the man who was brave and brash and loyal and idiotic and kind and obnoxious and  _ good _ .

 

Another minute.

 

The quiet gasp had everyone flinching as if they’d been struck, and then Molly’s eyes closed on their own, then slowly fluttered open again.

 

Beau laughed through tears in disbelief and relief, brushing her thumbs quickly over Molly's cheeks to wipe away the damp spots as they fell. Keg swore, now transfixed.

 

“Mollymauk?” Caleb said tentatively, his hand still on the man’s chest and his eyes like saucers.

 

“Mm… yes?” The tiefling squinted up at them, his easy smile turning into a wince when he tried to move.

 

Caleb seemed to deflate in utter overwhelming relief, and the tears that had previously been just barely held at bay now flowed freely.

 

“Hey, where’s the funeral?” Molly croaked.

 

“Right here,” Nott said, her normally wobbly voice wavering more than usual.

 

“You  _ gigantic fucking asshole! _ ” Beau shouted, almost reflexively punching his arm but catching herself at the last second. “What were you even thinking running in like that? You dropped before he even touched you, and we had to  _ watch _ — _F_ _ uck, _ Molly, you’re such a fucking idiot!” Her words were only softened by the fact that she was still crying over him. “We lost Jester, okay? We can’t do reckless shit anymore. She’s not going to pop out of the sky on a giant lollipop to save our asses, so you—you can’t do anything that’s going to take you away.”

 

“We’re all that’s left until we get them back, and we need  _ all _ of us,” Nott added.

 

“We’re a family, dude.” Beau’s voice broke.

 

Molly was looking teary eyed himself at their concern but partly confused as well. “Sorry we’re a potion down, but we all came out of it alive. And we’ll—” He looked around to see the absence of the slavers’ bodies and carts, as well as the more painful void left by their friends. “We’ll keep after them. We’re not giving up at a setback.”

 

Caleb finally spoke, keeping his voice monotone in an attempt to regain some sort of control over himself. “Mollymauk, the man did not stop attacking when you fell.”

 

Molly’s expression warped entirely into confusion, and he reached up to cover Caleb’s hand with his own, only then seeming to notice the mortal wound in his chest.

 

Beau freed one hand to pull out her last potion, removing the cork with her teeth and putting the vial in Molly’s open palm. He drank it on autopilot, looking up at his friends. Too slowly, lavender skin began knitting itself together, and Molly watched with morbid fascination.

 

“There’s no gentle way to say it,” Beau said. “You died.”

 

“Well, there was probably  _ some _ gentler way,” Nott said. Caleb’s hand twitched in her grasp, and her attention returned to him.  _ Safe. Safe. We’re safe. _

 

“Died?” Molly was unquestionably strong and had endured much in his two years of recalled consciousness, but in that one single word, his voice was so small that he sounded like the child he could sometimes be in his mind. “For how long?”

 

“No more than seven minutes,” Caleb answered, watching to ensure that the wound closed. “Without your necklace… Molly I do not think there was much to be done. I thank the gods that you had it.”

 

Molly smiled a true smile this time, despite the pain. “Worth the gold after all, then?”

 

“More than worth it,” Caleb said seriously, his gaze intense. He scanned Molly’s body, seeing that the potion had done all it could, and now they were out of magical healing. “I have a medicine kit; I can bandage your wound if you would like, though I’m afraid I don’t quite have Jester’s skill.”

 

“While that would truly be lovely, could we possibly get somewhere warm first? I’m freezing my bloody balls off here.” He was indeed shivering, the chill of death mixed with the incoming cold front that promised snow within minutes causing significant discomfort for the tiefling.

 

“We can set up a tent here,” Beau suggested, sitting back on her ankles as they all helped Molly sit upright, Nott and Beau helping to hold him steady while Caleb pulled out his cloak and wrapped it around Molly’s shoulders.

 

“Thank you, dear,” Molly murmured.

 

“Snow’s coming. We should get back to the trees, get some cover from the snow and wind and build up a fire,” Keg suggested from behind them.

 

“Now that sounds nice. Pity Jumda’s home is so far,” Molly said. Even if Molly could make the journey, none of them were willing to travel another day’s distance away from their missing friends.

 

“I’ll go ahead and get a fire started,” Keg said, getting on a horse and taking off back down the road.

 

“She’s eager to leave,” Beau remarked, glancing after the dwarf.

 

“She feels responsible,” Caleb said quietly.

 

“Well, I’m back, so enough with all the melancholy. Let’s just get a move on.” Molly held the cloak tightly around him as he was slowly helped to his feet by Nott and Caleb while Beau ran to bring back the two remaining horses.

 

“I’m afraid this will not be so easily forgotten, friend,” Caleb said, moving to help Beau urge a horse to the ground when she returned so that Molly could more easily climb on. Beau mounted up in front of him.

 

“Just this once, it’s okay if you're clingy,” Beau said, trying and failing to sound entirely begrudging as Molly happily leaned into her warmth. Caleb and Nott climbed on the other horse, and they all set off at a slow pace, everyone terrified to take their eyes off of Molly.

 

Some twenty minutes later, they reached a point on the road that was even with a small plume of smoke from a new campfire, and they turned into the trees, moving until they reached the small clearing that Keg had chosen. Everyone dismounted, and Beau took the horses to tie them up while Nott went to set up a tent and Caleb helped Molly over to the fire where Keg had apparently dragged over an entire log for them to sit on.

 

Molly sat down with a quiet groan, removing Caleb’s cloak and his own coat, and Caleb slowly moved to open his shirt and start cleaning what remained of the wound, which had nearly sealed over with a thin layer of skin but was in no way fully healed. Molly watched his movements intently, Caleb’s hands lacking any of their usual unsurety and aborted gestures as he took to his task with purpose. He smiled softly. Their friends were still gone, and it was entirely possible that they had just blown their only chance of getting them back, but Molly had died and returned again. And as himself, no less. Ever since he’d woken without any memories, he’d been afraid of going back to whatever he was before that had caused him to end up in that grave. Running into Cree and being called Lucien only gave a name to his fears. But now, he had died and returned as himself, as Molly. This was who he truly was. He could be strong. They could be strong. They could become whole again.

 

“How are you really feeling, Molly?” Caleb asked, now brushing some salve over the new skin.

 

“Not amazing to be sure, but I’m feeling damn grateful that I have you all still.” A bandage was pressed over the wound, and Molly opened his blood soaked shirt so strips of cloth could be tied around him to hold them in place. After a moment of consideration, he threw the shirt aside and grabbed one of the clean cloths in the kit to start wiping some of the blood away, the red staining his entire torso.

 

“No, you should be still. Rest. Let me.” Caleb held out his hand and Molly returned the cloth, onto which Caleb poured warmed water and started to gently but thoroughly remove all of the traces of blood, repeatedly rinsing it off and delving back in with surprisingly deft fingers. "We are grateful to have you as well."

 

“Thank you, Caleb.”

 

The wizard hummed, his hand on Molly’s shoulder as he brushed at his back. The glaive hadn’t pierced through, but a fair amount of blood stained the expanse of his back as well. “You are most welcome.”

 

“Thank you for bringing me back.”

 

Caleb went still for a moment before replying. “There was no other option, Molly.”

 

“There were options,” Molly said quietly, reaching up a shaky hand and covering Caleb’s on his shoulder. He looked out at Nott fighting with the tent and Beau just leaning against a tree and watching them, even sparing a glance for Keg across the fire, her hammer resting on her knees as she sat. “You could have run and left me there. You could have—could have buried me. I was dead. You’d have been well within your rights. Who’s going to tow around a dead body on their missions just because it looks like their friend? Or even if you were always going to try, I could have come back as Lucien, or I might have lost my memories all over again.” Molly took a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes, he found that Caleb had come around to crouch in front of him, a tentative hand reaching out and pausing before landing on his knee. “I have a million fears Caleb, and everything could have gone so horribly wrong, but somehow you made it go exactly right.”

 

“We all tried,” Caleb said simply. “You would never have been left behind. If the necklace didn’t work, I was still going to take care of you. And if your memories were gone, we'd help you to remember who you are. We would have found something.”

 

“Your determination is admirable.” Molly threaded his fingers between Caleb’s. 

 

“No more so than yours. Running right at Lorenzo like that when you could barely stand was heroic, but it was stupid, Molly.”

 

“I certainly know that now.”

 

Caleb stared him down. “You will not do something so foolish again. Especially now that we have no healing. We have to be careful for a while.”

 

“All of us, yes. I have a horrible feeling that we’re going to be doing a lot more tracking than fighting for some time.” Molly’s mood fell again. “Do you think they were there?”

 

Caleb’s expression was sombre. “I do not see where else they would have been.”

 

“So they heard us fail.”

 

“They heard us try.” Beau stepped up to the fire, and Caleb went back to cleaning away the blood.

 

“How unlike you to be the optimist.” Molly raised an eyebrow.

 

Beau crossed her arms and cocked her hip out. “You were dead. Caleb talked to your necklace and you came back. I guess it’s time to start believing in the impossible or whatever.” She dropped onto the tree trunk beside Molly and sighed. “And I really like those three and I want them back, so we’re going to get them, yeah?”

 

“Yes, we are. If they don’t break themselves out first, that is.” Molly smiled for a moment as he imagined Yasha breaking Lorenzo’s neck, but then the reason for their proximity returned full force and the dread settled back in his stomach. Yasha should never have been anywhere near people like that. And Jester, poor, sweet Jester, so adult in some ways and yet such an innocent in others, should not have to face the evils of the world like this. The only comfort is that she is not alone, but Molly doesn’t want any of them in the hands of the Shepherds. If his death could have somehow freed them, then he thinks that he would make the trade, setting all fears aside for his new family.

 

Beau, for once, read his tone. “We are getting them back.” She left no room for argument. “Hey, Nott! We need booze,” she called.

 

The little goblin looked to them and jogged over, producing her flask and handing it to Beau after taking a long swig. “When are we going to be able to go out after them again?”

 

“We have to take at least the day and night. Molly can’t travel,” Caleb answered.

 

“We’re going to have to come up with a new plan, too,” Molly said, taking the flask from Beau.

 

“Maybe gather some allies, attack at night,” Beau added.

 

“We know where they are going. I want to get them out as soon as possible, but… that’s not going to be for a short while, schatz.” Finished, he tossed the unsalvageable rag into the fire. He went to Molly’s rucksack and dug around for a spare shirt, bringing it back and pressing it into Molly’s hand.

 

“We’ll lose them,” Nott said fearfully.

 

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Beau said fiercely.

 

Nott made a quiet noise of discontent. “Someone else needs to set up the tent,” she said, picking up Molly’s coat. “I’ll get the blood out of this.”

 

Molly was taken aback. “Thank you, Nott.” She nodded shortly, crossing to the far edge of the trunk.

 

“I guess I’m on tent duty,” Beau said, taking another drink and then giving the flask back to Nott before leaving.

 

Molly pulled on his shirt and Caleb wrapped his cloak around his shoulders again, receiving a grateful smile in response.

 

“We will find them again, you know?” Caleb said. Molly nodded halfheartedly, pressing up against Caleb’s side to siphon as much warmth as he could. The wizard lit a hand up with flames, holding it just close enough to offer a nurturing warmth rather than the blazing bursts he was used to firing out. “I… I have to say, only a few nights ago, right after they were taken, I was doubting everything. I thought of leaving in the night, and I tried to make myself believe the worst of all of you so it would be easier, but… I couldn’t do it. I can’t. Because Beau is right.” He met Molly’s gaze head on, enough of a rarity that Molly’s eyebrows twitched upward in surprise even as his gaze softened at the conviction in Caleb's eyes. “We have become family, and this? This is a group I refuse to lose.”

 

Molly smiled softly. “Good. I’m beyond glad to hear it. I’d like you to stick around for a very long time.”

 

“As long as you do the same, okay, Mollymauk Tealeaf?”

 

“A deal is struck, Mr. Widogast.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Hopefully come Thursday Molly will be alive and well <3


End file.
